


Proud

by iwantcandy2



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Class Differences, F/M, Fluff, Tutoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:07:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21613567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwantcandy2/pseuds/iwantcandy2
Summary: Katara needs tutoring, so she turns to an unlikely source.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 203





	Proud

**Author's Note:**

> I need to have at least one work for my first OTP on my account, right?

Katara was a model student. She got straight A’s in almost every subject and was frequently the teacher’s pet, which was why the idea of her needing tutoring was so patently absurd. 

But here she was, history textbook tucked protectively under one arm, standing in front of  _ the  _ most ostentatious house she had ever seen. Seriously, her entire apartment complex could probably fit in this thing.

“Rich boys,” she muttered under her breath. 

She was exactly five minutes early, because even if she didn’t want to be here and even if she didn’t want to do this, she wasn’t about to be late. Knuckles kissed door in a fast one-two-three knock, and she waited outside with tapping foot.

When the door cracked open, she was greeted not by a primly dressed butler as she had anticipated, but by an old man wearing a Hawaiin t-shirt and a topknot. His wrinkled face creased even more at the sight of her, smiling from ear to ear.

“You must be Zuko’s friend,” he said, ushering her in. 

_ Not even close, but thanks for trying. _

“I’m his uncle,” he continued, “and we are so pleased to welcome you to our home.”

“Oh, I’m only here for a study session,” she replied, forcing a smile. The man seemed harmless, which wasn’t something she expected of any relative of Zuko’s. 

He showed her into what was probably… a receiving room? Is that what rich people called a room that served no other purpose but to hold some ostentatious floral print couches? 

“You make yourself comfortable and I’ll go get him,” Iroh said, gesturing in the direction of the furniture.

Katara settled onto one of the overstuffed cushions and did her best not to look out of place. She thumbed through her textbook, looking over everything that was highlighted and reciting the names and dates to herself. It didn’t make sense! She had all these things memorized, but the grade on her last test had been horrifying, abysmal, absolutely unacceptable: a B minus. Minus! She didn’t get minuses!

“Hey,” a voice called, and she looked up to see Zuko stroll into the room. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed, hair slightly dishevelled and wearing an oversized band shirt. It was half past noon.

“Thanks again for agreeing to help me,” Katara said. Even if she didn’t want to be here, she wasn’t about to be petty and ungrateful. After all, Zuko was her ticket back onto the honor roll. 

“Yeah, sure,” Zuko replied. “I was kinda surprised you asked, to be honest. Figured you’d be too proud to admit when you needed help.”

“Excuse me?” Katara asked, and there was winter frost in her breath, making the edges crackle with ire. “I am not  _ proud. _ ”

Zuko blinked at her for a couple of moments, gold eyes peeking out from scarred and unscarred brows alike.

“Uh, I guess I misjudged you then.” He shrugged. “Which is a shame, because I kinda assumed we would have that in common.”

“So you admit to being proud?”

_ Stop this. Don’t start a fight, Katara. You need his help. _

“Yes. I take pride in a lot of things. It’s who I am.”

And then he took the textbook from her, their hands brushing in a brief moment of electricity before he was flipping through and looking over her notes.

“So what exactly is it you need help with?” he asked. “Looks like you’ve got the right stuff highlighted.”

Rather than feel relieved, that just frustrated Katara more.

“It’s all those essay questions Ms. Joo Dee asks! I get everything right, but I get marked down and I don’t know why!”

He nodded, as if that made perfect sense.

“So on the last test, for the question about how Stalin took power, what did you put?”

“That he was the one behind the Red Army Invasion of Georgia in 1921, and he took power in April 1922.”

She could feel her own exasperation, the regurgitation of facts and dates that were right on the money and still coming up short. 

“All you told me was some when and what. None of it answers how.”

Throwing her hands up in frustration, she exclaimed, “The  _ how  _ isn’t written in the book!”

In response, Zuko chuckled. Katara didn’t think she’d ever heard him laugh before. It was… charming.

“Look, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you’re pretty good in Literature, right?” he guessed. “It’s just like that. There isn’t one right answer. You have to infer it from the information you’re given. Read between the lines, and turn the facts into a narrative.”

“That doesn’t seem… very accurate.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “That’s why you get so many historians arguing over things. Everyone has their own spin on it.”

He transferred from sitting across from her to the same couch, settling just a breath away and holding out the book for them to share.

“Here, I bet you’ll get it if I give you a few examples.”

They spent some time in companionable company, Zuko pointing out this and that and then prodding Katara into giving the right explanations. Like this, it was easy to see where she’d gone wrong, how she’d been too cold in her approach. Too formulaic. Her elementary school teachers had sometimes accused her of being too straight-laced, of drawing inside the lines perfectly but never blending the colors.

“How come you’re so good at this?” she asked when they were ready for a break. “No offense, but you seem so-”

And then she clicked her teeth closed, realizing that there wasn’t room enough in her mouth to cram her entire foot in it like that. However, Zuko stared at her expectantly, so with a sigh she lamely finished, “Serious. You seem very serious. Not like the type who can look at a bunch of names on paper and imagine their life stories in your head.”

His mouth twisted, an expression not quite displeasure, but certainly not enjoyment. The bitter taste of memory best forgotten.

“My dad was really into history,” he explained. “He used to quiz us about wars and generals and stuff at the dinner table.”

Katara wanted to ask exactly what sort of family talked about death and destruction over dinner, but they were interrupted by Iroh bearing a tray of tea.

“I bet you two are awfully parched right about now,” he said, setting the tray down on the table.

“Uncle,” Zuko said through gritted teeth, “remember that talk we had about not interrupting us?”

“I know, I know,” Iroh chuckled. “You don’t want an old man like me cramping your style in front of a girl. I just figured it would be hard to flirt with a dry mouth.”

“Uncle!”

Katara snorted, rushing to hide a teeth-flashing laugh behind her hand at the sheer absurdity of it. After placing the tea down, Iroh shot her a conspiratorial wink and left.

“I am so sorry about him,” Zuko said. He rubbed the back of his neck, and suddenly his entire face was several shades closer to matching hs scar. “He can be… like that.”

“Aw, I think he’s charming,” Katara replied, and was surprised to find it was true. She liked Uncle Iroh and his mismatched shirt and Bermuda shorts. He seemed so out of place in this million dollar home, with its tapestries and crown molded ceiling and a genuine, honest-to-goodness marble bust sitting in one corner.

Taking the pot, she poured herself a cup, inhaling the fragrant aroma of jasmine.

“You want any?” she asked, offering Zuko the pot.

He held up a hand, face wrinkled in refusal.

“Yeah, I’ll pass. I can’t even begin to explain how many times a day Uncle offers me tea.”

Katara just hummed, setting the teapot aside so she could focus on her cup. She brought it to her lips, felt the wet kiss of steam across her face as she took a long sip. 

_ When was the last time I sat down and had a cup of tea?  _ she thought to herself. 

“So is the rest of your family as free-spirited as your uncle?” she asked.

“No, uh, he’s kinda the black sheep,” Zuko explained. “Well, I guess you could say… both of us are.”

His voice carried the raw edge of something unhealed, something festering. Maybe someone else would have taken the warning and left well enough alone. However, Katara saw something suffering and she immediately offered aid. She’d been that way since she was a little girl, fishing kittens out of storm drains and begging dad to let her keep them. 

Placing one hand on Zuko’s shoulder, she said, “It doesn’t really matter if you’re like the rest of your family, as long as you can be proud of who you are, right?”

His mouth quirked in a smile, barely there and soft. 

“Yeah, I… guess you have a point. And I am. Proud, I mean. Of who I am. These days, anyway.”

Placing her teacup down with a clink, Katara responded with a smile of her own. The way he said it, like a declaration of victory after a battle, made her think that being proud wasn’t such a bad thing. And who would have guessed, maybe they did have a few things in common after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> [I have a Twitter and you can follow it. ](https://twitter.com/home)


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